


used to the summer days (and to the starry nights)

by celestexists



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: Camping, Canon Universe, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23374030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestexists/pseuds/celestexists
Summary: Snufkin takes Moomintroll camping, one summer night.
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 11
Kudos: 82
Collections: Valentine's Day Lockers 2020





	used to the summer days (and to the starry nights)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mayerwien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayerwien/gifts).



> Happy Valentines, May!
> 
> Title from "Open Road" by The Ransom Collective.

“Good night, dear,” Moominmamma says softly. She glances out his window. “Has Snufkin said his goodbyes already?”

Moomintroll continues turning down the covers. “Don’t be silly, Moominmamma,” he huffs. “It’s just summer, after all.”

But the end of the season is fast approaching. Ninni and Snorkmaiden have taken to making flower crowns by the river, their heads always wreathed in colorful, delicate petals for the rest of the day. Little My grows wilder as the days grow longer, coming up with new ways to mess about with Moomintroll. Yesterday, she tried copying Snufkin and took a melon for herself from the police officer’s garden. She almost broke her arm, rolling down the hill the way she did with her melon. The only way her tale was in any way similar to Snufkin’s was how it ended: getting locked up in jail and escaping that very night.

Time passes more quickly, Moomintroll can tell. With how Moominmamma’s garden is growing ripe for the coming autumn harvest. With how the sun isn’t as scorching hot as it was a few moons ago. With the mounting distance from Snufkin, steadily growing and unstoppable as the next tide.

But it is still summer, after all. They still have time.

“Why do you ask?” Moomintroll wants to know as he curls up in bed. 

“Nothing, dear.” She smiles, her eyes warm. “His tent isn’t in the usual spot by the bridge, so I wondered.”

Moomintroll shrugs. “He’s probably off wandering,” Moomintroll says around a yawn. “But he’ll be back.”

“Of course,” Moominmamma says with a smile. “Good night, my Moomintroll.”

He waits for her to close the door before throwing back his blanket and peering out his window. The creek is shimmering like one of Snorkmaiden’s bracelets, the moon and stars brightly reflected in the water. The grassy, open space by the bridge is empty.

Of course. Moomintroll trudges back in bed, and settles deeper and more comfortably on the sheets. 

Tomorrow he’ll go fishing by the river. Perhaps he and Snorkmaiden and Ninni can pick berries in the afternoon, more for Moominmamma’s jams. And then—

He sits up when he hears someone rap a quick tip-tapping against his window. And his heart soars when he sees a familiar silhouette. “Snufkin!” He exclaims as he pushes the window up.

Snufkin tips his head up, his eyes barely visible from beneath the brim of his hat. But Moomintroll can see the upward curl of his lips. “Are you up for a little late-night adventure, Moomintroll?”

“I—yes! Where are we going?” 

Snufkin’s smile widens. Then he ducks his head until Moomintroll can no longer see his face. “A secret place,” is all he says. 

Moomintroll flits around the room as he grabs a slip of paper and pen, scribbling a short note for Moominmamma to find in the morning ( _gone for a short trip with Snufkin, will be back soon! xo, Moomintroll_ ). “Do I need to bring anything?” Moomintroll asks. 

Snufkin hums thoughtfully. “Only what ever you cannot live without for a night and a day,” he says lightly. “I have everything else at hand.”

Moomintroll feels a sudden rush of fondness, like warmth of unexpected sunshine against his fur after an overcast day. “Then we’re all set, aren’t we?” He says, just as lightly. “Because I have you with me.”

Snufkin looks at him, his eyes gleaming curiously in the dark. “Indeed,” softly he says. “I shall meet you by the bridge, then.”

In the end, Moomintroll doesn’t bring anything, his excitement already an immense, weighty thing. The song of the crickets greet him as he takes that last step off the ladder, the meadow otherwise silent with slumber. Moomintroll breathes in the crush of fresh grass beneath his feet, and walks toward Snufkin by the bridge.

They walk together in silence, past Snufkin’s usual camping site, past the green clearing where they sunbathe, past the river where they go fishing, past the caves where they play hide and seek with Snorkmaiden, Sniff, and Little My.

It is as they reach the shorelines of the beach that Moomintroll finally bursts out, “You really won’t tell me where we’re going?” 

Snufkin laughs. “It’s somewhere new. And exciting, if I say so myself. Can you walk a bit further?”

Moomintrolls’s legs are starting to ache, but he says yes. Snufkin gives him a bright smile for his efforts.

They find themselves in the forest again, but the shape of the trees and the chittering of the creatures are unfamiliar to Moomintroll now. The air seems cooler here, too. And when Moomintroll looks up, the stars seem to be twinkling brighter. 

“We’re here,” Snufkin announces, shrugging off his rucksack and inspecting the glade with a critical gaze, his hands on his hips.

Moomintroll looks around and tries to see what Snufkin sees. The shadows of craggy mountain peaks towering over the endless canopies of trees. The smell of fresh grass was stronger, as if a touch of rain had swept over the blades of green. 

“It… looks just like the meadow near our house,” Moomintroll says uncertainly.

“So it does,” Snufkin says agreeably. “But perhaps it can surprise you, if you let it.”

Moomintroll helps Snufkin build a fire and sets up their sleeping rolls together. When he asks Snufkin if they need to pitch his tent, Snufkin just shakes his head.

“I want us to sleep with stars above our heads, and to wake with blue skies as soon as we open our eyes,” Snufkin says, without looking up from unpacking his gear. 

Moomintroll smiles. “That sounds wonderful.”

Once they’ve settled their things, they sit down on their rolls. When Moomintroll glances at his best friend, he sees the contented look on Snufkin’s face, his eyes half closed and his chin tilted up. The fire puts a warm glow on Snufkin’s cheeks, even though the lower half of his face is bundled deep in his scarf. 

Then Snufkin slides his half lidded gaze to Moomintroll, a sly look in his eye. “Would you like to hear a new tune?”

“Oh,” Moomintroll says, startled and flushed from getting caught staring. “Yes, I’d love to.”

“Hmm,” Snufkin takes out his mouth organ from his jacket pocket, the instrument’s glossy surface glinting in the firelight. “What shall we play?”

Moomintroll waits. He knows that when Snufkin is talking in that soft, murmuring tone of his, he is more often than not speaking to himself. 

“Ah,” Snufkin says finally, with a small smile. “I have just the thing.”

Moomintroll hears Snufkin’s first inhale before a delicate, lilting note pierces through the air and makes everything quiet down. He feels himself go still as the tune tumbles into a series of tremulous ups and downs, like someone courageously, eagerly climbing up a mountain despite the present fear they might fall.

Moomintroll doesn’t realize he has closed his eyes until Snufkin bumps his shoulder, even while he still weaves together the journey of his tune. Then Moomintroll looks up at the clearing before them and gasps.

Hundreds of fireflies are rising up from the grassy fields, the lights a rainbow of colors—green and blue, red and orange, pink and purple. After a few more moments of watching them, Moomintroll notices that their lights are blinking in a rhythm, a pattern. Then he laughs and claps his paws in delight. When he looks at his best friend, Snufkin is staring back at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes, his instrument still pressed close to his smiling lips. 

The fireflies are dancing and lighting up in time to Snufkin’s song.

When Snufkin stands and starts dancing in circles around the fire, his tune reaching its crescendo, Moomintroll laughs and joins him, both of them going round and round as the fireflies float above them in a wave of color.

Moomintroll is beaming from ear to ear and panting for breath when their dance slows down. The tune has become delicate again. The reedy excitement of the melody gentles into something light. Like the first fall of snow in Moominvalley.

Moomintroll watches him. The way Snufkin moves in dreamy circles, his eyes closed, his arms tucked tight against his body as he breathes life into his song. The fireflies flit around him, from the top of his pointed hat to the billowing hem of his coat, like they cannot help but stay close to this wondrous, mysterious creature. And Moomintroll understands completely.

The song doesn’t end with a resolution or a finality like any of Snufkin’s other epic tunes. This trails off into a quiet uncertainty that the fireflies echo in their own dance; they stop glowing one by one, fading into the darkness without a trace. Until it is only Snufkin and Moomintroll, once again.

Snufkin is turned away from Moomintroll and towards the meadow, his hands limp by his sides. 

“Snufkin,” Moomintroll clears his throat. He tries to find the right words, tries to think of what Moominmamma would say, because she always has the right words at hand. 

Snufkin walks back towards Moomintroll and their sleeping nest, slipping his instrument back into his jacket pocket. His profile is thrown into shadow by the fire. Then Snufkin stretches out beside Moomintroll, and removes his hat. And seeing Snufkin without his hat is as wonderful a surprise as the dancing fireflies.

Moomintroll is mesmerized by the flush on the apples of Snufkin’s cheeks and the upturned point of his nose. His hair looks like molten honey, the kind that tastes mildly like flowers, a hint of tart to the sweetness. Snufkin looks softer like this, Moomintroll thinks. More open. 

“You all sang and danced beautifully,” Moomintroll finally says, the words weighed down and twisted on his tongue. “You and the fireflies, I mean.”

Snufkin glances at Moomintroll and smiles. “So did you, Moomintroll,” he replies. “And they are wood sprites. They’re very small, but quite spirited.”

“Oh, how wonderful!” Moomintroll exclaims. “I’m glad they came out to spend time with us.”

“Yes,” Snufkin nods. “They were shy, at first. But we exchanged songs for a bit, and became fast friends.”

Moomintroll curls into the sleeping roll, propping his chin up with a paw. He’s starting to feel drowsiness settle back in. “That’s wonderful,” Moomintroll mumbles again. “I’m happy to have seen it.”

Snufkin shuffles down until he’s lying down beside Moomintroll. “Thank you,” he whispers back. This close, Moomintroll can smell the lingering smoky scent of patchouli and cloves from Snufkin’s pipe. This close, Snufkin’s scarf is within tangling reach of Moomintroll’s paws. “For coming with me.”

“I always want to come with you,” Moomintroll mumbles, eyes drifting shut. He thinks he feels Snufkin’s cold fingertips touch his snout, but he’s not sure.

Snufkin laughs, the sound almost swallowed by the crackling of the fire. Then he starts humming, the sound familiar.

“Hey, Snufkin?” Moomintroll says, suddenly remembering something. Snufkin doesn’t stop humming but he taps a finger on Moomintroll arm in acknowledgement. “What’s the name of the tune? The one we danced to.”

“That is secret,” Snufkin says without pause before continuing humming. His voice is closer against Moomintroll’s ear now. And Moomintroll can feel the softness of Snufkin’s curls under his snout.

“I’ll get it out of you eventually,” Moomintroll says, too sleepy and warm and content to argue.

“Good night, dear Moomintroll,” Snufkin replies in a smiling tone. And Moomintroll falls asleep just as Snufkin starts the coda, the part that sounds like freshly fallen snow.

In the morning, they wake up to blue skies overhead, as Snufkin had wished. They have a leisurely breakfast of warm porridge with dried blueberries and cranberries heated by the fire. Moomintroll does find out the name of Snukin’s secret tune, eventually, as they make their way back to Moominvalley. 

But that is entirely between the two friends and no one else, dear reader.


End file.
